Early this morning, I commented on an Instagram post of a complete stranger.
Normally, I sit back and watch how a conversation goes, reading all the different posts and only write something if I feel moved enough to give an opinion.
The post began with the words-ALL White people are racist not some, not just White supremacists, ALL. The White people who think they aren’t racist, or have done enough work to not be racist are actually the MOST racist because they are the most entitled.
The lady who wrote the post was a life coach.
The words stopped me in my tracks.
Am I seen to be the most racist?
Am I seen to be themost entitled?
I see people, ALL PEOPLE for who they are not what color their skin is and I am struggling with accepting the above statement.
My life’s work has been about helping people move out of the dark into their light. It’s been about helping people overcome pain and resistance in order to live a more enriched life. I’ve taught about equality and brought my children up to embrace all people and to come from a place of kindness and acceptance.
I responded to the post with loving words and having the freedom to speak and was met with hostility, judgement and anger.
Am I being ignorant?
Forgive me if I am… that is not my intention.
I support Black Lives Matter and I also support the fact that All Lives Matter.
I support diversity.
And… in no way do I think that my having white skin gives me any right to feel sorry for myself.
I can see and feel that the world is struggling and that people are struggling and that their struggle has gone on for decades.
For that I am sorry.
Hate breeds hate.
I am sorry that there are ignorant people on this earth-the earth that we all share, who believe that they have more of a right to be here than another.
It can be difficult for a child to find the words to describe what it feels like to lose a parent and for me, there was such a sense of nothingness, not really understanding what happened, not believing, confusion – just strange and surreal. When a traumatic event precedes the loss of a loved one it can exacerbate the emotions and personally, I can liken it to having a pile of breeze blocks lying on my chest, squeezing the breath out of my lungs and then being thrown into an abyss of anxiety…
I didn’t share my grief, I wasn’t able to as the words wouldn’t come out of my mouth and I shed no tears for some weeks afterwards. What I know and understand now is that I was in shock and a part of my sweet 13 year old self, shut down and went into survival mode.
She began using food to stuff down the pain.
I don’t remember being consoled by my Mother… I really don’t but I guess I must have been, thats what Mum’s do right? What I do remember is that everything changed about my whole exisitance within a few seconds of being told about my father’s death. I would never ever be the same again…
“I do not believe that grief changes who you are, if you let it… it will reveal who you are” – HRH Prince William
My Parents passport photo (approximately 1960) taken for their passage to Australia on the Ten Pound Ticket Scheme - I wish I knew them then, before all of the difficulties that consumed their lives.
Some years back a story broke in the national news headlines about a little girl that had gone missing. At first it was thought that she may have wandered off with friends when playing outside of her house on her bicycle but after some time it was clear that she had been abducted and murdered. Heartbreakingly, the child knew her abductor and it is believed that she may have gone willingly with him. So very sad…
I awoke early on the morning after the child had been found, heartbroken for the unknown family and mourning on mass with millions… I felt compelled to write a poem.
In a second gone all alone place unknown that moment in time tracks changed moved on. Unrest despair not here nor there no trace no trail the toil recoil. Exhausted confusion depleted emotions shattered withdrawal immersion in sorrow. Crowds praying hearts pleading a nation united same nation weeping searching, searching. Precious child returns to her ‘Source’ arms embracing gentle dancing. In a second gone now spirit reunited. A mother weeps her life torn a soul reborn.